


Right Where It Belongs

by thesaddestboner



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Detroit Tigers, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-24
Updated: 2008-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-18 23:22:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Happy trails, Jonesy. It sure has been a ride.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Where It Belongs

**Author's Note:**

> Let’s look to the ~~future~~ past, all the way to the year ~~2000~~ 1999!
> 
> [Todd](http://i81.photobucket.com/albums/j221/rowdykylefarnsworth/bilde-20.jpg) [Jones](http://i81.photobucket.com/albums/j221/rowdykylefarnsworth/bilde-18.jpg) and [Brian](http://i81.photobucket.com/albums/j221/rowdykylefarnsworth/moehler.jpg) [Moehler](http://i81.photobucket.com/albums/j221/rowdykylefarnsworth/274942.jpg)
> 
> Jones retired abruptly during the 2008 season, after struggling for much of the year. And then I ended up writing this about the end of the 1999 season.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

Jones and Moehler sit in the dugout, duffel bags across their knees. The stadium looms over them, steep and mysterious, dark now that all the lights have gone out.

“Gonna miss this place?” Jones asks.

“Yeah. It’s - it’s home,” Moehler says.

Jones raises his head and looks toward the scoreboard in left-center. “ ’s an eyesore,” he says, but he speaks with warm, fond affection. “ ’Bout time they tore this place down,” he says, voice wavering just a bit, but they both know Jones doesn’t really mean it.

Moehler leans forward and grips the railing in his hand, pulls a screwdriver out of his duffel.

Jones raises his eyebrows. “What’re you doin’?” he asks.

“Takin’ a piece of the old girl home with me.” Moehler starts chipping at the sleek blue paint. A piece of it comes off in his hand, and they both look at it. They can see the blue on top, and the green underneath, like a long-held secret finally revealed.

Jones takes the screwdriver from Moehler wordlessly and hacks away at the railing, chipping off something for himself. Jones curls callused fingers around it delicately, careful not to crush it, and slips it into a plastic Ziploc bag. He folds the plastic bag and tucks it securely in the front pocket of his jacket, right where it belongs, near his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


End file.
